56

Days came and they went.

Whole days of thinking about being good enough for Becky, and thinking about Huck, and afternoons of laying on his bed.

And then it was Sunday.

He woke up at dawn and watched the sky through his window. Watched the streams of silent light come in in dusty rays and rows through the air. Heard the birds in their short, sharp voices. One more day, and then back to school. The thought made him feel tired—being in his room or in the woods or anywhere else. it gave him a feeling of comfort. But being at school just made him feel unsafe in the strangest ways—it brought him closer to Becky and closer to that feeling of not being enough for her. That rough, dull repetition of clenching in his stomach.

Tom never took church seriously, but... Maybe he could straighten himself out, today. Maybe... Tom sighed and closed his eyes. He needed to think. But every time he thought about Huck, his mind went stuffy and he just couldn't. He couldn't go to church when God would just judge every thought.

He kept on watching the sky. Watched the changes in in it as the sun grew and rose to white-yellow from its tangerine glow. He felt his breaths shaping and echoing his chest, rising and falling, and felt the warmth around him, tangled in his sheets like their legs when Huck slept over that one time.

Tom brought his hands to cover his eyes. He needed a clear mind. God and church would help him. And Huck wouldn't go there—he never had liked church. Never had found a place there. So the only person Tom would have to see is Becky and their friends. And that would be alright because it had to be. Because he had to keep on seeing her if he wasn't going to do anything with Huck. Because that was his only chance at happiness.

Tom went back to sleep. Or, he tried to. Huck and Becky and the future kept crowding his mind, and he felt a thickness and a twist in his side from it. A bubbling up his stomach and his throat and an anxiousness in his gut. He could just lay there with his eyes closed, pretending. Pretending he still loved Becky the way she wanted to be loved, instead of the way he did; Pretending he didn't ruin his happiness and future at growing feelings for his best friend; Pretending for just a moment that everything was well and he was the same boy as all those years ago, when Huck hadn't left.

And he couldn't find that he would let himself sleep. He wouldn't let himself rest another moment—despite the fear and the wanting to prolong it and its tainted peace, his body yearned to settle everything; To see Becky and tell her so, and to tell Huck and tell him so; To finish everything that turned the golden sun into a sun-before-rain; To fix this-- he sat up. He let his eyes feel tired and let them close, and yet, his head didn't bob down and his mind wouldn't fog any longer. He was awake. And he was thinking, of Becky and Huck and himself.

He didn't want this unrest. He needed to settle this with God. He'd find his way, at some point.

Tom got up out of bed, and then his door creaked open without a knock. It was Sid. Their eyes met and Sid opened his mouth, and Tom said "I know." And Sid nodded.

"Ten minutes and we're going." Sid said.

"Fine." Tom said. He watched until Sid left, but Sid looked around the room a moment and paused still. Tom watched him, and grew aware of the clothes on the floor, unwashed but reused in those days he skipped school—he didn't have anyone to look nice for when he was by himself.

Tom grew aware of the papers on the ground—Becky had set them on his bed days and weeks ago, and he had just let them fall. His room was stale. Tom watched Sid with anxiousness until he left.

And it all swallowed him, then—he really did have to fix himself to be with Becky. She would be able to tell if he wasn't different.

No matter what he used to think, with all his silent looks and distant thinking, she had been able to tell. She would know if he was still not okay. That's why she said no all those times.

Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair. He picked up his clothes off the ground, putting them all into a pile to clean when he got back home. And the clothes that had been cleaned were all in a basket, never having been hung up. He went through that basket to find something to wear. As he picked up shirts and pants, he found a piece of clothing he had forgotten about. Huck's shirt. He grabbed it, examining it. There was a time of peace. When they hadn't all been fighting. When there was something shared between Huck and him, and Huck wasn't mad at him. Tom kept the shirt with him—he should return this.

Tom got changed into something nice. Something Aunt Polly and Becky and them would like: a plain grey dress shirt and the least-torn pants he had. He had other things to focus on than Huck. He couldn't prolong anything anymore—it was all or nothing. He got the ring box from the bookshelf, and put it into his pocket. It didn't fit—it jutted out and bulged through the pants pocket.

Tom fished it back out, and took the ring out of the box. Holding it gave his stomach a tremor. He put the ring in his pocket and put the box back on the shelf. A layer of slushing water was blooming in his chest—heavily weighing him to the ground like he was part of it. Tom put more of his old clothes in the pile and walked, holding Huck's shirt, downstairs, avoiding the creaks.

"Oh, good, Tom. Eat quickly and brush off your pants, and then we'll go." Aunt Polly said from the table. He nodded, but his eyes squinted for a second, hardly. This was better than what he usually wore, and—

"Fix your collar, too, Tom."

"What about Sid?" Tom asked. Aunt Polly barely gave a glance, an "Oh, he looks fine, Tom." and went back to eating her breakfast. This was his best efforts and it was hardly enough. A pit, a swirl, a bleeding of ink through his body, acidic and warm in its anger. He took a breath and walked a few steps. Tom ignored his feelings and just tried to get food and eat quickly and do as he was told.

He couldn't stop the feeling of darkness and heat in his chest, but he could ignore it. He could ignore it and push it behind him until no one could tell, and then it would all be over and settled.

They went to church.